Torture
by peacegoddess
Summary: She was running through the corridor, faster than she felt she had ever gone. The electric blue hair that was part of yet another alias swung along after her on the pace of her feet. Completely AU, eventual Sarkney. Finally updated again! :O :D
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: I don't own anything from Alias, except the DVD's

She was running through the corridor, faster than she felt she had ever gone. The electric blue hair that was part of yet another alias swung along after her on the pace of her feet. Other footsteps hunted her, they were catching up with her and soon they would be in firing range. This made her run even harder, but it was in vain. She heard the shot seconds before she felt it in her shoulder, blood slowly started to soak through her red shirt underneath her leather coat. She felt her strenght seeping away along with it. She tried to keep running, to stay up, but the pain and the exhaustion of the day finally caught up with her. Everything started to happen in slow-motion and slowly she fell down to the ground, barely concious. She heard the men say something in arabic, but she wasn't able to figure out what. She was dragged along back through the corridor she had only just crossed, trying to keep out of the hands of these men. Her bleeding shoulder left a path of blood, like the one in the fairytale had done with breadcrumbs. She was dragged in a room and tied to a chair harshly, not minding the wound which started to bleed even harder now it was torn open wide by this position. The pain finally knocked her out.

She only came back to full conciousness every now and then. They tortured her, not to get any information from her because mostly she was half unconcious. They tortured her for their own, sick pleasure. She saw the wounds on her body more than she felt them. Ever since being knocked out for the first time, this numbness had taken over. The fact that she didn't seemed to feel the pain they inflicted seemed to frustrate her captors into torturing her even more. Right now they were trying to find a new way of torturing her, a way that might finally make her scream out in piercing pain. One of the men left for a while, only to return with a whip. She couldn't care, the numbness shielded her. The leader took the whip, walked around to her back and whipped her, right between the shoulders. She would have screamed out in pain and agony, if she could, but she didn't have the strength. She felt her conciousness slipping away, thinking this time she might not wake up again. The man lashed out with the whip again, and was preparing for a third lash, when there were gunshots at the other side of the door. She tried to get the door into view, forcing all the strength she had left into accomplishing this. The lock was blasted off and the door knocked down, only to reveal...Julian Sark.

Her captors were no more within seconds. She saw the fear and worry in the piercing blue which she only knew as empty and cold, when he kneeled before her and took her head in his hands. His voice was desperate, distressed, when he called her name, tried to keep her awake. She tried but the darkness of unconciousness was too powerful.

Goodbye Julian, was the last thing she thought before the darkness swallowed her completely.

So, what do you think? This is supposed to be the beginning of a longer story, please review D


	2. Chapter 2

Okay, on with the show! Here's chapter two, hope you enjoy and please review D

**Chapter Two**

Julian Sark was supposed to get in, get the gun, get out and be done with it. He was surprised at his luck that someone else hadn't gotten the gun already, but was disappointed he got there before her. He always enjoyed their banter and their fights. She was his only worthy opponent. He was on his way to get out when he had to duck away from a man carrying a whip. He heard the man commenting to a guard that 'that bitch is gonna get a whipping'. He acted on what could only be called instinct. He had killed many and killed often, but never like this. He ran over to her, kneeled before her. She had a lot of wounds, many infected on purpose. She'd lost a lot of blood.

"Sydney! Sydney! Stay awake, please Sydney!" He shouted as he saw her eyes get misty and drooping shut slowly. "Julian" he heard her whisper before she passed out.

"Fuck!" He checked for a pulse and tore off her completely shredded leather coat to check her wounds, and only then saw the shot wound. He picked her up and carried her out. He realised he'd killed everyone in the facility.

He brought her to one of his safe houses. He was tending to her wounds when she woke up.

"Sark" she croaked out.

"Shhhh, don't talk" he said without looking up from his task. He was completely concentrated on what he was doing. Sydney shivered and she realised that she was only wearing her bra and panties. She remembered little from what had happened, but the worry in his eyes flashed through her mind. She shrugged it off as a figment of her imagination, or rather her unconciousness.

She tried to sit up further and her shoulder stung painfully. She noticed the shotwound had already been treated carefully and looked at Sark in wonder.

He was disinfecting a large wound on her leg, but what surprised her more was the delicacy he did it with. She shivered more heavily now, she was absolutely freezing despite the sun shining in through the windows. Where was she? What did Sark want with her? Questions filled her mind, but she was too tired to ask them.

"You're cold" Sark stated. He unbuttoned his shirt and helped her into it. "This'll have to do"

This was the Sark she knew, but he was doing something so un-Sark.

"Go back to sleep Sydney." He said when he was done disinfecting her wounds.

She was so tired, but also so cold it kept her from sleeping.

"What?" he asked, almost agressively, when she kept staring at him.

"I'm too cold to sleep" she whispered.

Sark looked at her blankly for a second, then walked to the bed, lifted the covers and got in with her. Sydney looked at him in alarm and anger.

"You want to be warm, right?" he asked annoyed. He had better things to do. Why did he take this up on himself?

She nodded and settled in to his opened arms.

&&&&&&&&

He sure as hell never meant to get in bed with her, but there simply was no other solution. He decided he would get back out as soon as the bed was completely warm.

She'd fallen asleep in his arms like they had never tried to kill eachother, like he'd never tortured Will, like he hadn't killed Francie, basically like he wasn't a cold-hearted assassin. The anger in her eyes had subsided so fast.

Too fast for his liking, yet he couldn't suppress the delight he felt when she trusted him like that. Not too mention when she moved into his arms, cuddling up to him. He turned his head to look at her. He couldn't see the wounds they had inflicted on her because of his shirt. Bastards. He had tortured yes, but never plainly for pleasure. She looked good in his shirt. Why was that the only thought that kept coming back to him? He was supposed to be a cold-hearted assassin, like everyone believed he was, like he believed he was. What the bloody hell was all this?

Irina Derevko had taught him everything in the world there was to know, but that didn't entail falling in love with the enemy.

Falling in love with her daughter.

At this realisation he resisted the urge to scramble out of the bed as fast as possible. Instead he carefully tore himself away from Sydney, as not to wake her up. He got out of the bed and stood before it, watching her sleep, rubbing his hands through his hair. She would be fine he assured himself. He grabbed his phone and dialed a number.

"_Bristow"_

"Jack, always a pleasure." He smirked into the phone.

"_Sark, what do you want?"_ Jack Bristow boosted angrily from the other side of the line.

"Really Jack, you should look after your daughter more carefully."

"_What the hell have you done with her you bastard!"_

"And you should certainly be more polite to the ones that save her life. Just trace this phone and you'll find her. Oh and bring her some clothes." He threw the cell on the table and walked out, without shirt or jacket.


	3. Chapter 3

Here it is, Chapter three! About the chapter length; this is my first fanfic, so I'm still playing around with that. I'm trying to update twice a week though, that should keep you satisfied 

Enjoy!

**Chapter Three**

Sydney sat in front of her window, watching the rain poor down it in the dark of the evening. It had been a week since she woke up, pretty much expecting to find Sark and instead finding her dad. She wasn't allowed to work yet, her left arm was still in a sling because of the shotwound and her body still covered with, now healing, wounds.

Why the hell Sark done it? Her father had told her how he'd found her, that Sark had just called him and left.

That was the main thing she wondered about. Her nemesis saving her life and then leaving, without making use of her. Of all people, Julian Sark never let an opportunity like this slip by.

So why had he? She wandered off to the kitchen to make herself some tea.

Waiting for the water to boil, the doorbell rang. She walked over to the door and thankfully accepted the boxes of take out from the delivery boy. She turned to get back to making her tea but was in for a surprise when she got back to the kitchen.

"Tea?" asked Sark, leaning against the counter, as he offered her a steaming mug.

She smashed the boxes down on the counter.

"What the hell are you doing here Sark?" Sydney asked.

"Honestly, I'm very good at making tea." He smirked.

Sark eyed the mug of hot tea carefully, her loss, and took a sip.

"Sark" Sydneys voice was angry. She knew she would be no match for him like this, it was frustrating.

"I wanted to see how you were doing." He shrugged.

Sydney searched his eyes for some sort of explanation, but all she saw was the familiar cold and empty sapphire blue. How could she ever have thought she'd seen some sort of emotion in them? He simply had none.

"I'm doing great Sark, just fine, now can you just leave?" Oh just to be able to arrest him and get him into custody, but Sark was smart and had picked the time she wouldn't be able to.

"Sydney, really, sarcasm doesn't suit you" He smirked as he walked to the door.

"Why did you do it?" She called after him, not able to suppress the urge.

Sark turned around briefly and showed something inbetween a smirk and a smile, there was something in his eyes Sydney couldn't name, and then he left.

Sydney returned to the counter on which she'd put the food. She hadn't expected him to answer the question, but somewhere inside she had hoped he would. Seeing the mug on the counter made her feel something she couldn't quite put her finger on. Damn, she really needed to get back to work, even if it was only deskwork it would get her mind off things. She wouldn't admit it to anyone, but she'd had nightmares about what happened every night. Where everything seemed to pass by her when it really happened, it now all returned in tenfold. Her captors would be proud of the terror she felt in those dreams. She regretted Sark had killed them all so fast, she would have loved to do the honors and she wouldn't have been as kind as Sark. And Sark was a ruthless man.

The sound of the glass backdoor startled her, but she was instantly calmed when she heard Weiss' voice.

"Hey, Syd" he said. "Ooh, take out! Do you have some for me?"

She smiled at her friend, who'd brought along a bottle of tequila.

"Sure, but only if you intend to share that with me" she pointed at the bottle smiling.

Weiss pretended to think about it for a moment, but then burst into a heartwarming smile.

"I have the feeling you need this more than I do, so I'm even willing to give up the entire bottle when the need arises."

"Now where's the fun in drinking alone?"

"True. If we need more booze we could always raid your drinks cabinet" he said seriously.

Sydney went to grab the take out, whereas Weiss got the shot glasses. They settled down on the floor together, ready to get completely wasted.

A few hours later a very unsteady Weiss finally left the house to get to his own and Sydney just fell asleep on the couch.

She woke up on the couch hours later because of the doorbell ringing. Bathing in sweat and with a huge hangover she struggled to get up from the couch and slowly walked to the door to open it. It revealed her father, who looked at her worriedly. Well so he should because she felt like hell. She flew in her fathers arms, crying. Finally giving in to what she'd been feeling the last week. She told him about what had happened, about her nightmares, she told him everything.

Jack called the office to tell them he wouldn't be able to make it today and took care of his daughter all day, who was an outright mess. She had seemed so strong, mentally that was, when he picked her up in Nice, and now she had finally broken down. He spent the day taking care of her like the time she was five and had a terrible flu. Except that now she couldn't sleep because of horrible things that had actually happened instead of a bunch of imaginary ghosts.

He sat down opposite of his daughter.

"Sydney, you should talk to Barnett about all this"

Sydneys head flew up to meets his eyes. "No" she said forcefully.

"Sydney, please. You need to talk about this to get it out."

"No" she said again, this time softer, tears welling up in her eyes. "I can't."

Jack understood and decided not to push things further. He decided to change the subject.

"What movie would you like to watch tonight and with which ice cream?"

Sydney thought about it for a moment, the movie being the hardest choice.

"Rocky Road and uhm, The dukes of hazzard: the beginning" she tells her father, grinning.

Her father looks at her incredulously.

"The dukes of hazzard?" he repeats.

"Yep, you heard me"

Jack shakes his head, chuckling."Whatever you want ma'am."

&&&&&&&&&&&

She is wearing a beautiful red dress and a blond wig. The cap sleeves of the dress mask the scar that the shotwound has left. The only outward sign of her tortures. The nightmares were still there, although they were limited to one a night they were more terrifying than they'd ever been. Today was her birthday, and instead of celebrating it at home she was on her first mission since her capture in Nice.

She, Vaughn and Weiss were in Valencia to get an informations disc of a well known arms dealer. Intel on the weapon she failed to get in Nice and some other arms deals. Not the most interesting of missions, but a good one to get back into it. She was in the most fancy art gallery she'd ever seen, accompanied by Weiss and with Vaughn on comms.

When Vaughn told her she was clear she snuck into a labyrinth of corridors leading towards an office, her absence covered by Weiss. Sydney bypassed the security lock and walked in, emediately sensing something was wrong.


	4. Chapter 4

Yes, yes, the time has come and here is Chappie no. 4. I know it took ridiculously long and I'm very sorry for that. I suffered from bad writers block and graduating highschool and all that... anyway don't let's not keep you. Read and enjoy!

**Chapter Four**

On instinct she turned around in a spin kick and only barely missed Sark, who tucked the disc in his suit jacket fast.

"Sydney, so good to see you're back." He commented before throwing a punch at her, which she adequately blocked. They started to fight, perfectly balanced, no one really having the upper hand until Sydney saw the chance to knee Sark in his crotch, hard. Not a technique she used often in fights like these, but it came in handy. He fell to the ground, groaning in pain. Syney kept her gun trained at him while she got the disc from his pocket. She considered kneeing him again, but he was still in too much pain from the first time. She hadn't lost much of her strength in the last few weeks obviously. She walked past Sark to the door.

"Bye, Julian" she said sweetly as she waved at him before she closed the door and barricaded it. Weiss was already waiting for her, keeping the exit open. They quickly head towards the door and went back to LA.

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_Bloody Hell_ was al Sark could think on the plane. _She bloody kicked me in the nuts! In the nuts! Bitch..._ Yet he couldn't stop the smile from speading across his face. She'd called him Julian. Again. She was the only one who ever did. Well and Irina too of course, but Irina didn't count. There was something about it, he couldn't quite name it. Whatever it was, it was hard to fight and it took all his effort to conceal it and maintain his blank expression.

He tried to get his mind back to what he was doing. He had been trying to find out everything he could about Nice. Little did he know when he started that that would be an incredibly hard task. Someone had been very good in covering their tracks. Initially it all seemed so easy. The weapon and it's guards were Ana Espinosa's. As Sark dug further though, he found out

someone had killed her months before and hired those Arabs to guard the weapon under her name. He hadn't gotten any further than that and that was the frustrating thing. He couldn't come any closer to answering the question of who that was. The disc Sydney managed to get from him could prove very useful in this, but she had no idea what she could have in her hands. There was more behind all this than she thought.

Frustration built in him and he smacked his fist down on the table. God, if only she knew... She kept him from his sleep. Ever since he'd felt her sleeping in his arms he was restless. Good thing he didn't need much sleep. There was a song he'd heard when he was walking down the streets of London, two days after Nice. He hated modern music, but this particular song was different. He found himself strangely attracted to it. It was called Unfamiliar Ceilings by a band called Fightstar. He found both the title of the song and the name of the band eerily fitting.

&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sydney unlocked the door to her apartment, relieved to be back and relieved not to have had seen countless of people on her birthday. She liked the peace and quiet. She dropped her keys on the table in the hallway and was ready to plop down on the couch and enjoy the fact that she was alive and kicking back in the field. She smiled when the image of Sark crumpling down on the floor, his hands on his groin, came to mind. She turned on the lights only to find her father, Vaughn, Weiss and Dixon there. Despite the fact that she wanted to be alone, she was happy to see them there with a birthday cake waiting for her at the salon table. The people closest to her were here and they ment well. Besides, that cake looked absolutely delicous.

"Happy Birthday Sydney", her father said when he came up to her and kissed her on the cheek. He was followed by Dixon.

"Happy Birthday Syd! You did great today and what's this I heard of a new fighting tactic?"

"Thanks Dixon, want me to show you that technique?" she said, tongue in cheek.

"No, no, I think I get the rough idea."

"Good" Sydney smiled as Vaugh and Weiss made their way to her with the cake, singing Happy Birthday.

"Thanks guys", she thanked them when they were done.

"Okay, now blow out the candles." Weiss said excitedly.

"Okay, here I go." Sydney said before gathering as much air in her lungs as possible.

"Nice job." Vaughn commented after she'd blown out all the candles with one breath.

"Now on to the presents!" Sydney said. She always was a sucker for presents.

"Thanks dad" she said while hugging him after she'd unraveled her gift. Dixon, Weiss and Vaughn looked dumbfounded at the Dukes of Hazzard DVD box in her hands.

"Right" Vaughn said. "Well this here is from both me and Weiss" he handed over the gold-wrapped present.

Sydney was curious to see what the two of them had bought for her and wasted no time ripping the wrapping off. A black velvet box was revealed and Sydney hurried to open it. Inside was a silver necklace with a small dreamcatcher pendant.

"We thought it might keep your nightmares at bay" Weiss smiled.

Tears formed in her eyes and she hugged both tightly.

"Thank you guys so much. Could you help me put it on?" she asked Vaughn.

"Sure. Here you go."

She looked at the beautifully crafted pendant lying on her skin and hoped it really would keep her nightmares at bay.

Dixon hadn't had much inspiration, he'd gotten her a gift cheque for a clothing store in town. Nontheless she was happy with it.

"Thanks Dixon, I needed to get some new clothes." She smiled brightly. Her birthday wasn't that bad after all. And kicking Sark in the nuts was quite the bonus...

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A/N: Call me crazy (or evil) but writing Sarks parts is just so much easier for me than Syds parts... The Fightstar song Sark is thinking about is absolutely amazing, you can really feel the emotion flowing from it, go check it out!


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

A few miles away, in one of his LA safehouses Sark sat staring at the screen of his laptop. Everything he had tried had resulted in nothing, he was no closer to solving that bloody puzzle. Frankly there was only one option left, but that one frightened him to no end. Sydney Bristow. It wasn't so much the fact that she could take him into custody or kill him, it was this new sensation. Emotions were a threat and attachments an enemy. That's what Irina had taught him and that was the rule he lived by. He had seen Irina betray it many times for Sydney and though he respected her, he had always thought her weak because of it. Did Irina know all along about his feelings for her daughter and his unability to identify them? He hated admitting, even to himself, that there was something he didn't know anything about. He was Mr. Sark, international man of mystery. No emotions, no attachments, no weaknesses, no bloody first name...

Anyway, now he was left with only one option left he needed to think out his plan completely. He wasn't sure if she was able to handle all of this yet, but there was no other way. First things first. There'd be no convincing her to betray the CIA, which it essentially was, if he hadn't dealt with every little detail. He needed to get all the intel together and get Sydney to even consider spending her undivided attention to it's contents.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sydney plopped down on the couch, not ready to get up from it for atleast 24 hours. She was exhausted after her last mission and her disturbed nights. No matter how good Vaughn and Weiss had meant with their gift a week before, it wasn't helping. All of a sudden the doorbell rang. _What the hell._ Sydney reluctantly got up from the couch and made her way to the door only to find no one in front of it when she opened it.

"Great, bloody punks are at it again." She muttered darkly to herself and to the floor she was looking at while walking back towards the couch. She looked up and saw Sark sitting on the couch she just abandoned.

"I appreciate the high opinion you have of me, but using front doors isn't really my thing." He smirked at her.

"Funny, I remember you leaving through one last time you were here. Back for more tea?"

"That's a very tempting offer, but I'm not here on a social call Sydney."

"Really? Then what would you call this?"

"I need your help."

Sydney laughed without joy. "You, the great Mr. Sark, need _my_ help?"

"You'll do yourself a great favor if you help me, this isn't all about me." He said, handing her the black folder containing everything he had on the case.

"In your mind, everything's about you."

"We're going to have to work on your opinion of me." He shook his head, still smirking.

"I don't have to do anything, you bastard." Sydney said, throwing the folder back to him and reaching for her gun. He simply let the folder fall on the ground.

"Sydney, I'm not joking around here. You're in just as much danger as I am." His famed icy control was slipping and he fought hard to hold on to it. _No emotions, no attachments, no weaknesses. _

Sydney had her sharp reply ready but the sincerity and concern in his eyes gripped her and she picked up the black folder from the floor to examine it's contents.

"I'll contact you later." He said, making his way out of her garden doors.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Sark cursed himself for letting his control slip when she didn't rise to the bait. He should've known she wasn't that easy. Their banter was fun, but it never really got either of them anywhere. So why would it now? The only pro of this short lapse of control was the fact that she'd atleast looked at the folder.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

Dumbfounded Sydney stared at the pictures before her. Ana Espinosa, her biggest nemesis next to Sark, was dead. Simply eliminated by a shot between the eyes. No doubt about it, as the papers around her confirmed it one by one. Somehow she had always felt it was impossible for Ana to die, but she was obviously just as mortal as anyone else. Funny thing this. Her first nemesis, Ana, was dead and she only knew this because of her other nemesis, who had just asked for her help. She wondered if this was his way of making her repay the dead she had to him for saving her life. He hadn't mentioned any of that, but everything in the black folder he had given her revolved around said action. How could she help him, if he hadn't come any closer to finding out who did all this? Evil, cocky, arrogant, that he may be, but he was definately the best out there. He had a right to be worried if there was someone out there who managed to keep everything he did from him. Of course, she liked to believe that was besides her but she knew better. Unfortunately.

She had a ton of questions for Sark, but they had to wait. She had to get to work.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

Sydney was doing some research on her computer when her father came up to her.

"Sydney, briefing in five minutes."

"What's it about?"

"You'll hear in five minutes." He said sternly before he left to prepare said briefing.

Typically her dad. She gathered the things she figured she needed for the briefing and finished what she was doing on her computer. Making her way to the briefing room she was joined by Weiss.

"So, any idea what's going on?" he asked her.

"No, guess we're about to find out."

"Ah, Sydney, Weiss, good of you to join us. Now we can begin" Jack Bristow said as they entered the room. Sydney and Weiss settled in their seats.

"Okay, I'm sure all of you remember Ana Espinosa." He looked at Sydney, who was turning white slightly.

"What about her?" Vaughn asked.

"It seems like she's quite pissed off about Sark stealing her weapon and rescuing Sydney in the process. We all know how much she hates Sydney, so I guess it's not very surprising."

Meanwhile Sydney's thoughts were going in overdrive. _They don't know Ana is dead. Should I tell them? Yeah Sydney great idea, and then what? They'll want to know how you know that and you wouldn't be able to explain. Nope, you're just gonna have to sit this out and listen. _"Sydney! Are you listening?" her father broke her reverie.

"Uh, yeah, of course."

"It seems like she's up to something, but we can't quite figure out what. We've intercepted a communication between Ms. Espinosa and Mr. San'ko about a meeting. Sydney, Weiss, Vaughn, I need you to go in and observe. Audio and Video, Marshall will provide you with the op-tech. You leave tomorrow morning."

Sydney didn't trust any of this knowing that Ana was dead, but she couldn't stop this mission without getting herself in serious trouble. She figured Sark would know about the meeting aswell and contact her before the morning came.

"Syd, are you okay? You looked like you'd seen a ghost in there." Vaughn asked, catching up with her after the op-tech briefing.

"Yeah, it's just, well, you know how things are with me and Ana." She smiled at him. Right now, she was thankful for her past with Ana. She could remain vague and everyone would understand what she meant. Atleast, they thought they did and she wasn't about to help them out of that dream. _I can't believe I'm trusting Sark on all this_, she thought for about the umpteenth time.

&&&&&&&&&&&

Sark sat on Sydney's couch for the second time in 24 hours. He was waiting for her to get out of the shower, so they could discuss the events of the last 24 hours. He was sure she'd heard about the Espinosa – San'ko meeting, and knowing the CIA they would send her there. There was absolutely no way she could though. He had been contacted by Irina. They were in trouble, more so than he'd thought. If only she could just hurry up with that shower. Finally the sound of falling water stopped. _Anytime now. _For a moment Sark was completely speachless when he saw Sydney coming out of the bathroom in soft pink pajamas with little white sheep on them.

"I always knew you were a remarkable appearance Sydney, but this tops them all."

He saw her startle at his voice, but she recovered quickly.

"Fancy meeting you here Mr. Sark."

"I see your opinion of me hás improved."

"Shut it Sark and get to the point. What is going on here?" She threw the black folder on the table in front of him.

"Someone has killed Ana Espinosa and is using her name for their own activities. I believe the disc you obtained in Valencia can lead us to finding out who this might be."

"That's why you need me? For a disc?"

"This person has put out a hit on our heads Sydney. I haven't been able to get any further on my own and you are the best out there. Together we might be able to figure this puzzle out."

"A hit? On us? You? Me? Julian Sark and Sydney Bristow?" She sank down on the couch next to him. He gave her another black folder. "Curtesy of your mother." Inside it was the issue of the hits.

"So this meeting between Espinosa and San'ko is a set up to get us there?"

"Most likely, yes. I assume the CIA has prepared some kind of mission for you. You can't go Sydney."

"And what am I supposed to tell them? Sorry, no can do. Someone's put a hit out on me. How I know that? Sarkie boy told me. Or better yet, a fairy."

"Look, Sydney, either this person is very vengeful or we've seen something vitally important in that base. Whichever it is, I don't like the threat of something so dangerous. I have no interest in dying."

"Neither do I Sark."

They sat thinking for a while.

"Okay here's the plan." Sark said after a while. "You fake an injury you got at home tonight, that'll give you a valid reason to stay in the unmarked van and oversee everything. I'm going to Vienna aswell to track down the hitman and find out what he knows."

"An injury I got at home tonight." Sydney thought about it.

"You must admit, it is highly effective."

"Did you have any particular injury in mind?"

"I suspect a sprained ankle will do the trick."

"And how did I sprain my ankle?" She said, trying to annoy him.

"While having wild and passionate sex with an enemy of the state." He smirked, he knew what she was trying to do.

"How about I slipped on the leg of my pajama pants."

"Surely such sweet looking pajamas would never do such a cruel thing to you?"

The doorbell rang, startling them both.

"You have to go." Sydney whispered to Sark while gathering both black folders and hiding them.

"Means of contacting me are in the hit-file. Good luck." He slipped out the garden doors and into the shadows.

"Syd, are you okay?" Weiss called from outside the front door.

"Be right there, hang on." She opened the door. "Sorry I'm so slow, I just sprained my ankle."

"How did you manage to do that?" Weiss asked, chuckling and shaking his head.

"Slipped on the leg of my pajamas." She said, faking a blush. "Would you mind if I took your place in the van tomorrow?"

"No, not at all. It's fun having you on comms."

Outside in the garden Sark couldn't help but commenting to himself. "She is só good."


	7. Chapter 7

AN: Yes, it's true, there is actually an update... For a long time I have not been able to continue this for various reasons. I've moved around Europe and had no idea how to get beyond the point where I was, but it seems my muse has returned, so...Enjoy! and please review! (though no flames, thankyouverymuch :) )

**Chapter Seven**

"Espinosa's late" was Weiss' brilliant comment.

Sydney, more on her guard than the other two who were observing outside, shrugged. "She never was a reliable person." She scanned the surveillance feeds for suspicious people. And Sark. Where the hell was he? Was he actually doing what he had said he would?

All of a sudden an explosion lit up the screen.

"Shit, what was that?" Vaughn yelled.

"That was the end of San'ko" Sydney replied drily.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

While walking out of the de-briefing after she was done her phone rang. She didn't recognise the number on the display, but she picked up anyway.

"Bristow." She walked over to a private corner.

"Hows the ankle?" a tired voice asked at the other side of the line.

"Are you on drugs? Calling me at the agency?" she whispered harshly.

"Oh, I'm high alright. Literally"

Sydney was amused as she saw the image of a high Sark in her mind. She softly chuckled.

"I'm glad you think it's so amusing. Meet me at the docks in an hour." And with that he hung up. That man would probably never stop surprising her. As long as he was on her side she decided she wouldn't mind. The question was which side that was. She grabbed her stuff and made her way to her car. The docks it was.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"What happened?" Sydney said cutting to the chase when she saw his dishevelled appearance, bloody and dirty and with a completely torn suit.

"My encounter with our hitman was rather...." He tried to find a word to describe what had happened. "..disturbing."

This wasn't good, Sydney realised, not if Sark of all people used the word disturbing. Especially not when he looked like this.

"What happened?" she asked again.

"I found him, just like I said I would. Only to find him pushing the button to blow up San'ko and after that another one to blow himself up." Sark looked worried at the memory.

"He blew himself up?" Sydney asked incredulously. This kind of self-sacrifice was definately disturbing.

"I'm afraid he did, couple of feet away from me." He rolled up what was left of his left sleeve to reveal a large wound. "Believe me, there are more."

"They need to be cleaned. Hang on." Sydney walked back to her car and got out a first aid kit.

"Returning the favour?" he asked while she set it on the hood of her car and opened it. Sydney looked up expecting to find him smirking like he always seemed to do. Instead he was smiling, an actual genuine smile. _Not just surprising, confusing aswell. _

"Don't get your hopes up Sark." She dabbed the wound on his arm with desinfectant, not at all careful to make it as painless as possible.

"I do believe I was more gentle when I cleaned your wounds."

"I wouldn't know, I don't remember." She knew he was right though so she proceeded more gentle. After she'd bandaged his arm Sark looked at her expectantly, knowing what was coming.

"I need to clean your other wounds aswell."

"Whatever you say." This time, he was smirking.

He took off his shirt and pants, leaving him in only his boxer briefs. He had a lean and muscular body. Phew, what a body! Greek sculpture-worthy. Soft and smooth, but with hard muscle underneath...Hang on a minute Bristow, this is still Sark.

There was a pretty big burn on his right leg so she decided to focus on that. The burn had already started to turn into a blister, she hoped it had remained clean. There wasn't much she could do now, except from spraying some cooling foam on it. His other leg needed a lot more work. There was a lot of grit in his wounds. His back had a few burn blisters, but his front had pretty much remained unscathed, his arms had protected his chest. Instead of putting his suit back on he got a pair of jeans and a grey sweater from his car. Sydney had never seen him dressed so casually. The thought occured to her that she liked it more than the suits.

"What did you do with your head?" She ripped open the packaging of another alcohol pad.

"The blast knocked me down, smashed my head on the ground. Obviously."

Slowly and gently she dabbed his eyebrow with the alcohol pad. She heard his sharp intake of breath once but he said nothing. He smelt of fire and that expensive cologne of his, and it was strangely intoxicating. For the second time in a matter of minutes she found herself distracted by Sarks physique.

"You do realise that now this has gotten us no closer to finding out who's behind all this, you've got to get the disc." Sark said after she'd patched him up.

"Why should I trust you don't run off with it?"

"You don't have to give me the disc. Examine it yourself if you don't trust me. Just let me know when you find anything interesting." Sark got in his car and Sydney figured the conversation was over and made her way to her own car to get back to the CIA.

"Oh and Sydney...." Sydney turned around. "Thanks." Sark said before he sped off.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Hey Syd!" Marshall said as she walked through the door of his office.

"Hey Marshall." She smiled kindly at him. "You remember that disc that we recovered from Valencia?"

"Yes, where you kicked Sark in..uh..his crotch. That was pretty impressive stuff, I wish I'd done that, but, you know, I'm kinda scared of uh..."

"Marshall, what was on the disc?"

"Blueprints of the weapon from Nice."

"That's all? Are you sure?"

"Yes. Why?"

"I'm just wondering why Sark risked so much for a disc that only contains blueprints to a weapon he already has..."

"Maybe he didn't want anyone else to be able to build it."

"Maybe. I'd like to have a look at it, do you have it here by any chance?"

Marshall rummaged through the mess on his desk. "Here it is." He handed it to Sydney.

"Thanks Marshall." She smiled again and walked out of his office.

&&&&&&&&&&&&&

"Sonofabitch." Sark muttered. He was racing around L.A., something that was supposed to keep his mind of other things. Instead the combination of high speed and lack of concentration was more likely to get him killed. The combination of different memories from the past 24 hours is just too much. Sydney's hands on his skin, inbetween his legs and her face so near to his while cleaning the cut through his eyebrow, the hitman blowing himself up after he'd seen Sark's guns trained on him. He sighed and braked somewhat, driving himself home in a less break-a-neck speed. When he got there he had to find out who this man was who was willing to kill himself before letting anyone find out more about his employer.

Across town Sydney used the same word as Sark had. Not that there had been much chance of Marshall being wrong, she had still hoped he'd overlooked something. Anything. Still she felt like she'd missed something, that there really was something to be found. Besides that, Sark wasn't an idiot. If he believed there was something to be found, there probably was. She just couldn't find it. Reluctantly she copied the contents of the disc on a memory stick which she decided not let out of her sight. She would have to let Sark take a look. She was deep in the shit now if anyone ever found out.


End file.
